Niel Flamm 10/6/26 Niel Flamm 10/6/26

The Hinge Experiment: Please Do Not Touch Those Eyebrows

Today was one of those days when I feel like I need a vacation from my day.

It started with an eye appointment.

The good news: the retina is still attached.

That seems like a pretty good way to start a Tuesday.

I go back in a month for another check. The purpose of that visit is to make sure I haven't developed macular edema, specifically DME. If everything still looks good, I'll move to appointments every three months to make sure I don't eventually need one of those delightful shots directly into my eyeball.

Because apparently normal people get eye exams.

I get eye exams where the doctor is checking whether my retina is still where it belongs and whether we're going to have to inject something into my eye.

Dating after 50 is exciting.

Then Recovery

After the eye appointment, I went to a recovery meeting for an hour.

Airica knows I'm in recovery.

There's no reason to hide it, and frankly, I'm not interested in hiding it.

It's part of my life.

Just like dialysis.

Just like the prosthetic.

Just like the eyes.

Just like the eyebrows.

Apparently, the eyebrows may actually be the most important part of this story.

We'll get to that.

Then Off to the Vascular Surgeon

After the meeting, I headed over to Novant to have my fistula graft checked.

The good news continued.

Everything looks good.

I don't have to go back for four months.

I'll take that.

So far today:

Retina attached.

Fistula graft good.

Recovery meeting completed.

Eyebrows apparently still under consideration.

Then It Was Time for Mom

I stopped at Come Back Shack and picked up lunch.

For me:

Fried chicken salad with ranch.

For Mom:

Hawaiian chicken salad with fries.

I got to the skilled nursing facility and found Mom asleep.

Instead of waking her up, I left her food on the rolling tray next to her bed.

By then, lunch had apparently become dinner.

I sat in the lobby, ate my salad, and checked movie times.

Why?

Because apparently there is a new Tom Cruise movie called Digger.

Review coming.

Yes, I am aware that my life has somehow become a combination of dialysis, medical appointments, recovery, assisted living research, dating, and Tom Cruise movie reviews.

I'm leaning into it.

And Then My Phone Buzzed

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I heard from Airica.

And one of her first messages was:

"Please do not touch those eyebrows."

Ladies and gentlemen...

We have confirmation.

For those of you wondering whether Airica actually likes the Ming the Merciless look...

She does.

I have proof.

Apparently, these eyebrows aren't a problem.

They're a feature.

The threading appointment is canceled.

My eyebrows live to fight another day.

The Conversation Continues

Airica and I had another awesome conversation.

We talked about having a wish.

Then somehow that conversation turned into Amazon Prime Day.

Then Christmas lists.

Then Sono Bello.

Apparently, I need to lose about 20 pounds.

This is becoming an aggressive dating strategy.

First:

"Don't touch your eyebrows."

At least she's keeping me on my toes.

Then We Went Everywhere

We talked about the songs I listened to while driving around Mount Pleasant.

We talked about me going to a recovery meeting.

She knows I'm in recovery, so there isn't any reason for me to pretend otherwise.

We talked about my salad.

I even sent her a completely respectable picture of it.

Not a nasty selfie.

A salad selfie.

Apparently, there are levels to dating after 50.

I'm choosing to believe this is one of them.

Then somehow the conversation moved to pizza.

And tiramisu.

Apparently there's some saying involving "Not the tiramisu?"

My 54-year-old brain did not comprehend the reference.

It went straight over my head.

Apparently there are cultural references I missed while I was busy doing whatever the hell I was doing for the last 30 years.

I'll have to investigate.

The Important Part

For those keeping score at home:

The conversation is still awesome.

And we're making plans to hang out this weekend.

Together.

Not hanging out with each other, which would be a fairly ridiculous definition of a date.

That's another thing I like about this.

We're not spending all day trying to figure out whether the other person is interested.

We're actually talking.

We're making plans.

We're learning things about each other.

And I'm not sitting around staring at Hinge wondering why my match disappeared into the digital abyss.

This is different.

Tuesday and Friday Have One Problem

I did let Airica know that Tuesday and Friday nights are already spoken for.

Those nights belong to my fraternity brothers and our Zoom hangout.

And without fail, I get grilled about the date.

How did it go?

What did you talk about?

Are you going to see her again?

What happened?

Basically, it's like having a Greek chorus of nosy brothers who have collectively decided that my dating life is their new favorite television show.

Now they have even more material.

Because there was a first date.

There was a mug.

There's a second-date possibility.

There are weekend plans.

And apparently, the eyebrows have received official approval.

I'm sure Tuesday's Zoom will be completely normal.

Absolutely no one will ask me about Airica.

Sure.

And I'm the guy who almost fell into a booth on his first date.

The Hinge Experiment Update

A few weeks ago, I was wondering if it was time to delete Hinge.

I had no matches.

No conversations.

No dates.

Steve the Iguana was practically packing my bags.

Now?

I've had an actual first date.

It went well.

I'm still talking to her.

We're making plans for the weekend.

She sends me good morning texts.

She likes my eyebrows.

And somehow, I'm okay with all of this.

For once, The Hinge Experiment doesn't feel like an experiment.

It feels like I'm just getting to know someone.

And that's probably the best part.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a retina to keep attached, a fistula graft to maintain, a movie to review, a mother to visit, fraternity brothers to answer to...

And 54-year-old dating decisions to make.

Oh, and apparently I'm keeping the eyebrows.

Airica has spoken.

Niel Flamm 9/20/26 Niel Flamm 9/20/26

The Hinge Experiment: Sometimes the “X” Isn’t Personal—It’s a Boundary

The Hinge Experiment continues.

Still no magical love story. Still no woman standing outside my door holding a Coke Zero and saying, “Niel, I've been looking everywhere for you.”

But I am looking.

And looking also means clicking the X sometimes.

Recently, I came across three profiles of women who, from what I could see, seem perfectly nice. Interesting careers, hobbies, personalities, and lives of their own.

And I clicked X on all three.

Not because I think there's anything wrong with them.

Not because of their appearance.

Not because one likes preserving food or another thinks dating her is like finding an extra chicken nugget in your meal—which, frankly, is a pretty strong sales pitch.

It came down to one little line in the profiles:

Marijuana: Sometimes.

For me, that's a no.

Before Someone Lights the Torches—or Something Else

This isn't me telling anyone else how to live.

I'm not starting the Niel Flamm War on Weed.

I'm also not interested in debating whether marijuana should be legal, illegal, medicinal, recreational, taxed, sold, grown, smoked, eaten in a gummy, baked into a brownie, or delivered by a talking iguana named Steve.

People make their own choices.

This is mine.

I'm in recovery, and I've learned over the years that I need to know my boundaries and protect them.

Based on what I've seen and experienced, I associate marijuana use with the potential to lead toward other substance use. I also know there is debate and research around the whole concept of a “gateway drug,” so I'm not presenting my personal experience as a universal scientific rule.

I don't need it to be one.

For my recovery, I choose not to have marijuana as part of my environment or romantic relationship.

That's enough.

My Friends Are a Different Story

I have friends and fraternity brothers who may enjoy marijuana.

They're adults.

They make their decisions.

I make mine.

In most cases, they consciously choose not to use it around me.

I appreciate that.

They aren't required to live their lives according to my recovery, and I don't expect them to.

But respecting my boundary tells me something important about the friendship.

They can do their thing.

I can do mine.

And nobody needs to turn Thanksgiving dinner into a TED Talk about cannabis.

Alcohol Is Weirdly Different for Me

This may sound contradictory, but I've gone on dates with women who drink alcohol responsibly.

And I find it absolutely fascinating.

Someone orders a glass of wine.

Then perhaps...

another glass of wine.

And then...

THEY STOP.

What kind of sorcery is this?

Two glasses?

You mean you're not immediately calculating how many more you can consume, where the next drink is coming from, and whether there's enough alcohol available to completely obliterate yourself?

Apparently, some people drink because they enjoy a drink.

Who knew?

That was never how I drank.

For me, drinking wasn't:

"This Cabernet has lovely notes of blackberry."

It was more:

“Excellent. How quickly can we make consciousness optional?”

That's one of the reasons I know I'm an alcoholic and why recovery remains important to me.

Someone else's responsible alcohol use doesn't automatically bother me. I know where I am with alcohol today.

Marijuana hits differently for me.

So I draw the boundary there.

Dating Is Also About Knowing What Doesn't Work

I've written a lot during The Hinge Experiment about wanting matches.

Then I finally cleaned out my matches because conversations weren't going anywhere.

Now I'm clicking through profiles looking for someone new.

But here's something important:

Getting a match isn't the goal.

Finding someone compatible is.

If I ignore something that's important to me just because someone is attractive or because my match queue currently resembles an abandoned shopping mall, what exactly am I accomplishing?

I could click the heart.

Maybe she clicks mine.

Maybe we start talking.

Maybe we like each other.

Then eventually I say:

“Oh, by the way, marijuana use is a boundary for me.”

And she says:

“Oh, by the way, I enjoy marijuana.”

Congratulations!

We've successfully discovered something the profile already told us.

That's not fair to either person.

The X is much easier.

It's Not Rejection of the Person

That's probably the biggest point.

I don't know these women.

For all I know, they're wonderful.

They may be smart, hilarious, compassionate, successful, and fantastic partners for someone.

I'm simply not that someone.

And that's okay.

Dating isn't about determining whether someone is a good or bad person.

It's determining whether two people might be good together.

There are things someone else might see on my profile and immediately think:

NOPE.

I have one leg.

I'm bald.

I'm in recovery.

I write publicly about my life.

I apparently have an imaginary iguana named Steve who has become a recurring character in my dating blog.

Take your pick.

Someone can hit X.

I'm going to survive.

So, Ladies, I Wish You Well

To these three women—and anyone else whose profile I pass because marijuana use is listed:

There is no judgment from me.

No lecture.

No attempt to change you.

No angry finger wagging from the other side of the Hinge algorithm.

Just a recognition that we probably aren't the right match.

I genuinely hope each of you finds your person.

Someone who appreciates your humor, your quirks, your interests, and whatever makes you uniquely you.

I'll keep looking for mine.